The Promotion 21

THURSDAY EVENING DINNER

I harangued my wife, Amy, "I've gotta get that promotion to vice president. With the VP bonuses we would move from the ranks of the rich to the truly wealthy. All kind of corporate perks come with a VP position in our company." We were enjoying a lovely dinner of Dover Sole and an expensive bottle of French White Burgundy at our favorite and very posh Atlanta restaurant. However, I was wound tight about the pending selection of a new VP at the office.

Amy smiled indulgently, "Well, Peter, you are certainly more than qualified, and you have worked all of these years for this chance. Who is the competition? Is there anyone who could beat you?"

"Only one. John E. Twiggs. He is a Georgia hotty-totty descended from all of those famous Revolutionary War and Civil War Twiggs. Old-line Georgia money just loves him, and he brings in clients by the bucketful."

Amy lapsed into thoughtful silence. She is the perfect trophy wife: a stunningly beautiful blonde with unusual smoky blue-grey eyes, eleven years younger than my thirty-nine, Atlanta debutante and socialite, University of Georgia cheerleader, and totally supportive of me achieving success and wealth. In fact, she is ruthlessly ambitious for my success. Amy enjoys the finer things in life that money can buy. She would absolutely love being a VP's wife. She would be running with the creme-de-la-creme of Atlanta society and dripping money like a fat man sweating at Myrtle Beach in July.

I'm from a small town in south Georgia and do not have the fancy Atlanta connections and social graces that Amy and Twiggs enjoy. What I do have is a BA and MBA from Harvard, an intuitive feel for imaginative financial dealings, and a long record of major financial successes for our Atlanta-based firm. The rewards for my efforts have been very lucrative to date, but more would be better yet. My wife would totally agree.

Amy took a sip of her wine, glanced at me, and than said with a coy smile, "You don't suppose there is," she arched her eyebrows seductively and cocked her head, "anything I could do to enhance your promotion chances, do you?"

It took a second for the full potential implications of Amy's offer to sink in. I would not be surprised if this woman had a few sexual indiscretions since we were married six years ago. With a woman this beautiful one just has to wonder. If so, at least she is discrete and doesn't flaunt it.

I glanced at her suspiciously and said slowly "Okay, what is it exactly that you are proposing?"

"Well, your CEO, David is going to make the choice, right?" Amy asked.

"Yeah. He owns the company. He gets other input, but yeah, he decides."

David comes from money and is disgustingly good looking. He is an arrogant bully who is barely tolerated and secretly despised by his employees, including me. However, he has the knack of making money hand over fist, thus making him one of the wealthiest men in Atlanta. He also shares his firm's financial success generously with his employees, which buys our loyalty, if not our fondness.

Amy pursed her lips and said with a thoughtful smile, "Well, he has an eye for the ladies and has been caught with his hand in the wrong cookie jar several times. He is on wife number three, and the gossip among us wives is that marriage number three is spiraling down in flames too."

"And you are what? Proposing to provide him with a cookie jar in which to dip in exchange for my promotion," I observed wryly, squinching my face up like I smelled a skunk.

Amy laughed. "Oh stop that, silly. Your description is so crass. I would be more subtle. And discrete. A simple tryst or two to lay the groundwork for your promotion so to speak. But in essence, what you describe would be our plan. You work hard; maybe your wife should put her cute little tush to work for our success too."

I shook my head uneasily, "Amy, no, you are my wife. You can't go around screwing the boss for my promotion."

Amy pouted, lightly slapping my arm, "Oh pooh, don't be such a fuddy duddy. This is Atlanta, not that Podunkville you come from. These are modern times. Nobody is totally faithful these days."

She had drawn out and stressed the term "totally" with a dismissive inflection. Guess I might have my answer about her having had affairs before.

I mulled over the issue to myself, "I have to admit that VP promotion really would be a life changer. Our wealth would skyrocket. But still, I would be bartering my wife's sexy body for my promotion. How could I work for that hateful guy knowing he screwed my wife? That just ain't how it's supposed to be. Still money does talk."

"Amy, this is not a good idea."

"What's not to like? I engage in a little hanky panky with your boss, and we get gazillions of dollars down the road. If it makes you feel better, I will set you up with one of my girl friends to balance the books; several of them think you are absolutely adorable and quite beddable."

I shook my head as I tried to cope with Amy's amoral proposal. "He might not even go for it."

"Oh, I think you can trust me to handle that part of the problem," Amy replied smiling a self-satisfied smile.

I debated in my mind, "Hell, she has all but admitted she has screwed around on me before just for fun. This time we would at least be making money from her sweaty bedroom aerobics. Maybe we should give it a try?"

Amy saw I was wavering. She contemplated her response and then grinned. "Hey, it's only sex. We are all grownups." She stuck out her tongue playfully and purred in her best sex-kitten voice, "You wouldn't begrudge your sweet little wife a little naughty adult fun would you?"

I just shook my head in exacerbation at my difficult and hauntingly sexy wife.

Then Amy grew more serious, "How much difference would the promotion really make in our income? Twenty-five percent? More?"

I smiled wistfully contemplating the potential windfall and explained it for Amy, "You are about right; the salary would probably go up maybe 20 or 30 percent. But that's not where the real money is. As VP I would get a percentage of profits as an annual executive performance bonus. These bonuses can easily exceed salary in good years for our company, and we have been having some mighty good years recently.

"Then there are the perks that come with the position: the company picks up life and medical insurance for us and also country club, gym dues, and the like, I get a new car every year, we get to use the corporate jet when it's not on company business, and tons more. The corporate jet is a decked out Gulfstream G600, a real honey of a plane that can reach anywhere in the Caribbean, South America, or Europe we want to go. When you add it all together, the promotion to VP can more than double our total compensation package."

Amy smiled greedily, "Oh Baby, this is just too good to miss out on. We need to do what we need to do to make this promotion happen."

Then she grinned mischievously, "Ths could actually be fun besides being profitable. David is a good looking, take charge kinda guy. At the last two parties we attended, he propositioned me so I am very much on his radar. Very flattering and interesting propositions, by the way."

"Ah, you are a beautiful woman. I have no doubt you get many flattering proposals."

Amy smiled smugly, "Oh, I do. It is good for a girl's self-esteem. But we can use David's interest in me to lock-in your promotion. A little fundamental quid pro quo. Look Honey, a little sex between consenting adults just isn't that big of a deal. Just imagine what we would get in return."

I sighed and replied uncertainly, "Oh Amy, I don't know. This just doesn't seem right. We need to think about this some more."

Amy gave me a cheesy grin and moved the conversation onto other topics. All her life, Amy has had men wrapped around her little finger, and Amy always gets what Amy wants.

FRIDAY AFTERNOON

The next afternoon, Amy joined me in my office a bit after 5:00 pm. She was breathtakingly beautiful as always. Amy truly was a gorgeous creature. We were planning to go for drinks, then dinner, and maybe a little dancing afterwards.

She whispered to me conspiratorially, "I just walked past David's office. Billy Sue, his secretary, was leaving. She and I were in high school together. I chatted her up for a minute. David's still there, and Billy Sue says he often stays late on Fridays. Now is our opportunity for my "little talk" with David." She pantomimed quote marks with her fingers around "little talk."

Amy was moving fast. I thought we had left last night's proposal as a vague "maybe" that would die a silent death if I ignored it. I guess I was misinformed. Amy wanted this promotion badly. I felt like a fish out of water and a little short of breath.

We looked out in the hall. It was quiet as a morgue following the exodus for the long weekend. David's door to the executive suite was still open, and the lights were on.

I felt panicky. "What's the plan, Amy? Do I walk you down there and introduce you or what? I can't just barge in there and say, "Hey Boss, you want to screw my wife in exchange for my promotion?" I was feeling nauseous about this whole idea.

Amy grimaced and said, "No, you stay right here. Just wait. I'll do better on my own."

Amy took a deep breath and said, "Okay, wish me luck."

But I wasn't sure I could.

She started down the hall to David's office with a confident sashay.

I sat down and fidgeted as time slowly ticked by. I imagined what my wife might be doing. Imagination is a powerful tool, and I had vivid mental images of my sexy wife in David's arms or worse.

After about 45 minutes, my intercom buzzed. David's rich, strong voice boomed out. "Peter, I waylaid your wife on her way to your office. We have been enjoying a delightful chat. She is a most interesting woman. I hear I have delayed your evening plans; I am sorry. Let me treat you two to a drink at my club across the street. Come down to my office and join us, and we will go on over."

I hurried down to David's office. While we were having drinks together would be the perfect time for David to break the news of my promotion.

David and my wife were just coming out of his office as I arrived. My wife's cheeks were flushed. She caught my eye and gave me a discrete wink.

We crossed the street and entered a small private club. The club had a small dining room, a reading room with a selection of newspapers and magazines, a dedicated cigar room, and a lounge. The lounge had a magnificent mahogany bar with a few leather stools. Several booths ran along one wall. It was all very tony and elegant. We ordered a round of drinks: single malt Scotches for David and me and a Cosmopolitan for Amy.

We had a pleasant chat over drinks in one of the booths. David probed some about my ongoing business deals for the company. Mostly he just flirted with Amy, and she flirted back.

David got up and went to the bar to get us another round of drinks.

"Well," I hissed as soon as he left.

Amy answered with a teasing smile, " Oh, it is going very well. He likes you and thinks you have potential to be a great vice president. You have really impressed him with a couple of your recent deals."

I cut to the chase and impatiently whispered. "And did you, you know, you and he ..."

Amy giggled like a teenager, "Un huh, right there in his office. He is a silver tongued devil who can charm the panties right off a girl and make her delighted he did! He's thinking about it, but I think I have him hooked solid."

I scowled at her answer but said nothing. I knew how earthshaking sex with Amy could be. She would undoubtably reel him in. There was a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach.

David rejoined us carrying a small tray with another round of drinks and a small appetizer plate of exquisite spiced shrimp and fried crab claws. The ensuing conversation was amiable and varied, but nothing explicit was said about my promotion.

"Well, I better get back to the office and get some work done," David said as we finished our drinks.

Amy interjected quickly before I could say anything, "We will walk back over with you."

We accompanied David back to his office. He paused at the door for a moment considering something and then dismissed me with, "Peter, why don't you return to your office. Amy raised an issue, we need to explore further."

Well, Amy's raised issue was obviously my promotion, but there was a double entendre there that made me cringe. I once again sat at my desk twiddling my thumbs, while my wife was no doubt putting out for my boss and winning my promotion. We make a fully dedicated team, even if this was a bit of an unorthodox team effort.

After about an hour, my intercom buzzed and David came on again. "Peter, why don't you come down and join Amy and me now. I believe she has some news for you; I'll let her tell you."

THE ANNOUNCEMENT

I hurried to David's office bursting with anticipation. Amy had reeled him in like I knew she would. She is an absolutely irresistible woman when she puts her mind (and body) to it. We were going to join the ranks of the uber rich, the truly wealthy. I was moving into the big-time corporate world. Amy would be in seventh heaven.

As I entered the secretary's antechamber to David's office, I heard their light laughter and banter. I walked on into David's office without knocking. He was in his slacks with an untucked shirt, standing barefoot behind his desk fiddling with his computer. His suit coat and tie were draped over his office chair. Amy was in her panties buttoning her blouse as she looked over David's shoulder at the computer with a contented smile. Her skirt, lacy scarf, and high heels were strewn on the floor next to the oversize leather couch.

A flash of irritation ran through me, as I thought, "They could have at least gotten dressed before calling me to join them. It was not necessary to flaunt my wife's adultery in my face. Oh well, at least I am getting the VP position out of her physical exertions on my behalf."

When Amy saw me enter, she padded over to me with a comforting look. "I am so sorry, Honey. Not this time, maybe next time."

David added in that damn arrogant voice of his, "Twiggs just brings in too much money not to give him the vice president position. There will be another vacancy at the executive level in a year or two. You will be a very, very strong candidate then."

Amy gave me a consoling peck on the cheek and added, "David explained to me that in this business, money trumps sex. It just has to be that way."

I was staggered. Lending my exquisite wife to my boss as a sex toy had been for nothing.

As he pulled on his socks and shoes, David added with a condescending air, "Peter, I don't want you to think I don't appreciate your efforts. Amy has made a very good case for the added value you bring to the firm. I just sent my secretary a memo to raise your pay $1,500 a month starting Monday. That is quite a bonus even if you didn't get the vice president position."

Now I understood that my wife's wanton half-dressed state was carefully calculated to make sure that I understood Amy's new status as the bossman's mistress.

Amy was finishing dressing quickly now and refusing to meet my eye.

I could read the handwriting on the wall. I would never make vice president. The $1,500 a month raise was compensation from David for the sexual pleasure my wife provided him and not for my value to the company. It was probably going to prove to be Amy's private allowance from David.

Amy, dressed now, came to me, and took my hands gently in hers. "Honey, the company limo will be here in a minute. I am going to go with David and fly to Jekyll Island on the Gulfstream for the weekend. Monday is a holiday so I won't be back until Tuesday morning. I'll call you when I get back."

My eyes must have bugged out of my head like baseballs. I had not expected this.

"What about luggage," I asked stupidly.

David interjected, "Oh, I will buy her anything she needs."

I could now see the postscript to the handwriting on the wall. Amy would be David's hot lover until wife number three was out of the picture, which probably would not be long. Then Amy would be David's wife number four.

My trophy wife was trading up into a more successful man's bed. David would eventually fire me to get me out from under foot. Soon Amy the trophy wife, my job, and my cuckold bonus would all be history.

EPILOGUE

Stunned, I spun around without further comment and staggered back to my office where I collapsed into my chair. I sat in the dark with my head spinning.

After a few minutes. I heard David and my wife come out in the hall and walk to the elevator that was fifteen feet or so from my office. They were unaware I was in my darkened office, and I could hear them clearly through my office's open door.

Amy was giggling uncontrollably and saying "Oh, I can't believe I am doing this. It is all sooo naughty. Poor Peter, I thought he would pee in his pants when I told him the news about the change in plans from what he thought."

David laughed that obnoxious laugh of his and replied, "Yes, the expression on his face was certainly priceless. You are a very cruel but sexy, little minx. Oh Baby, I can't wait to induct you into the mile-high-club on the way to Jekyll."

Amy replied with a sexy purr, "It's a short flight, Honey. You better be more action than talk when we get airborne."

After a painful minute or two eavesdropping on the cooing lovebirds' nauseating mutual seduction, I heard the ding of the elevator. Then they were gone. I was all alone in the office with my thoughts.

My marriage had become the Titanic, a catastrophe, a complete catastrophe. But now what?

The natural inclination of the jilted husband is to shoot the bastard that poached his wife. But I had presented my exquisite wife to David's as a present to unwrap and enjoy. Still I'd really like to shoot him and maybe Amy too. However, John Law takes a dim view of such. I do not relish life in prison or the death penalty as an alternative to my current comfortable lifestyle.

I could divorce Amy, of course. But David would fire me on the spot, putting an end to my lucrative financial position. Then with a few well-placed calls, he could make sure I never had a high level position in the financial world again. He is a bully and very petty man at heart. David would have no compunction about destroying me financially if I crossed him or fought to get my wife back.

I could simply bide my time and grin and bear my wife's torrid affair with David while I searched for a new position. Maybe in Dallas or Memphis. Somewhere far from Atlanta and David and Amy.

I spent a half hour or so trying out various mental options on what to do without finding a satisfactory answer. There remained one possibility that I had been loathe to consider seriously as it would change my life irretrievably.

I flipped on my desk light and dug out a scrap of paper with a handwritten phone number. I dialed the number on my cell phone rather than my office phone. The phone on the other end rang twice, and then a crisp woman's voice said "Hello."

"Ah, Agent Jackson, this is Peter Moore. You gave me this number and said to call if I changed my mind."

FBI Agent Sandra Jackson replied cooly, "Yes Mr. Moore, I did. Have you changed your mind about cooperating?"

"Well, perhaps. You said if I cooperated and provided evidence that my boss, David Thompson, was involved in illegal financial activities than I would get immunity for any part I might have played and could be put in the witness protection program."

"No. What I said was if you cooperate, we will evaluate the value of your potential testimony and evidence, and then we might, perhaps, offer you immunity and protection if it was warranted."